


Cover Me

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam Winchester, Cas Is A Good Angel, Cas Wearing Dean and Sam’s Clothes, Dean Washing Cas, Gen, Half Naked Castiel, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19172032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Cas is accidentally covered with the toxic remains of a monster and, while Dean hurriedly helps him strip and clean up, Sam notices the hunter they’re working with is taking undue interest in the proceedings.That half naked angel the guy’s ogling is Sam’s brother.And Sam’s about to make that clear.





	Cover Me

“Nothing stinks that bad that isn’t fucking dead,” Dean snapped. He’d tugged the sleeve of his army jacket down over his fist, and had the fabric pressed to his nose. “Jesus Christ, you could use that shit for riot control.”

Mort, the hunter who’d reached out for help once he realised the enormity - literally - of the situation, didn’t seem too bothered by the smell.

Sam knew why; he’d been trying to stay upwind of the man since the moment he, Dean and Cas had arrived in town.

However bad the _Rachemon_ stank, Mort was a hundred times worse.

Sam wasn’t sure when the other hunter had last washed, but he’d put a bet on it being way longer that was socially acceptable.

His clothes were even worse; Sam could tell what his diet had been for the past two weeks since most of it decorated the bib of his dungarees and the neckline of his (once probably white) tee shirt.

“It’s probably all the dead stuff in its gut,” Mort said. “Dogs, cattle, those campers; thing’s appetite wasn’t exactly feeble.”

He moved past Cas, and Sam didn’t miss the way Mort leered at him (even if Cas seemed to miss it, or, more likely, just didn’t care), and aimed a kick at the now bloating flesh of the creature, a reaction that had started as soon as they’d emptied their magic rounds into it.

Whether his bulk (Mort was short but wide, all flab but enough of it that he was probably formidable in a fight if by nature of his size alone) gave him an edge or he’d just picked a vulnerable part of the carcass, Sam didn’t know.

The result, though, was immediate; the creature’s body popped where Mort had kicked it, and a foul green liquid sprayed out at them.

He and Dean weren’t near enough to be at risk, but Mort was, and Cas (fast as always) pushed him away hard.

The only problem with that was it meant Cas was then in the line of fire, and the fluid drenched him.

Cas stood very still for a moment, they all did, stricken by just how gross what had happened was.

“Tell me that didn’t use to be somebody,” Dean said, sounding as if he was five seconds from puking.

That was when Sam noticed Cas was shaking.

“Unfortunately no. You asked how it killed. That was a poison sac.”

Cas had barely finished speaking before Dean ran back to the car and grabbed his duffel. He was back at Cas’s side in moments, pulling on a pair of latex gloves, and pushing his sodden outer layers off his shoulders and to the ground.

“Easy, I got ya,” he told the angel. He ripped open the shirt, scattering buttons in all directions, and it said a lot that this drew no complaint from Cas.

He did the same with Cas’s pants, tugging them open and shimmying the wet material down the angel’s legs and low enough he could just step out of them.

That left him standing there in his boxers, while Dean used a towel wet with holy water to wipe the gunge off his skin.

“He okay?” Sam asked.

Dean, focus on the job, nodded, but Sam didn’t miss the tightness around his eyes that Dean always got when one of them was hurt, or had a close call.

Sam suspected Mort might want to stay out of striking distance of his brother, and he wondered how to suggest that to Mort on the downlow without having to come closer than within ten feet when he saw what Mort was doing.

The other hunter was standing here, watching Dean clean Cas up, and holy actual shit.

He was _groping_ himself through his dungarees, leering at the half naked angel, a stupid grin on his face.

Never mind being outside of _Dean’s_ range….

Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t want to distract Dean from what he was doing.

He just moved, putting himself between Cas and Mort, and huffed in astonishment when Mort actually tried to sidestep him to _get a better view_.

There was no way Sam was putting his hands on the guy, but he did open his coat to show the knife sheathed on his belt.

“Mort.” He said it quietly, careful not to draw anybody else’s attention. The last thing Cas needed was to see somebody rubbing one off while he was half naked and getting monster goo washed off his skin.

Something in his tone drew Mort’s gaze from Cas to himself, but his hand was still clutching at his jewels, rubbing, squeezing, and he gave a low, broken moan.

Guy was a fucking asshole.

“That,” Sam said, quietly, ‘is my brother you’re leering at. If you don’t stop it, I’ll going to kill you.”

He was sure Mort got the point but, just to make absolutely certain, Sam moved one side of his coat back to reveal the brutal knife sheathed at his belt.

“Or i could just make sure you never jerk off again.”

Mort swallowed, looking a little queasy, and pulled his hand away from what it had been doing.

He backed up a few steps, gave Sam an annoyed look, and then went back to his truck.

Dean and Cas didn’t even notice him going.

Sam turned around to find Dean trying to talk Cas into wearing a band tee shirt - he’d already got the angel into a pair of his sweat pants - and Cas was being the brattiest angel in the garrison over it being Metallica.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing this would turn into another argument provoking Dean to play the band’s music at ear splitting volume.

(And while Cas thought Dean wanted him in that tee shirt because he knew Cas hated the music, Sam knew it was because Dean liked to see Cas in his clothes, especially one of his favourites. He liked looking after his family).

But Cas was already in Dean’s sweatpants, and Sam saw no harm in contributing.

He took off his coat, stripped out of his plaid shirt, and handed it over to Cas.

Watching the angel roll up the sleeves so his hands weren’t swallowed up by the fabric…. That was the cutest thing he’d seen in ages, and it kind of did something fluttery to his stomach.

Dean glared a little. “Shout out so we know you’re in there, Cas.”

“Oh, hilarious,” Sam countered. “Jealousy’s an ugly, ugly thing Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean was scooping Cas’s clothes into a garbage bag. “So’s your face.”

Cas sighed, took the bag and dumped it in the trunk.

“Keep this up,” he threatened, “and I’ll put you both in there with it.”

Sam figured Cas was joking. After all, it wasn’t like they could both fit.


End file.
